Stuck in Committee
by organanation
Summary: Bail and Breha spend an evening at a state function, making plans for a very private meeting later on that night. Pure plotless fluff. Cameos by Tiny Leia and Carlist Rieekan.


_AN: Some Bail and Breha plotless fluff for you fine people! Thanks graciecatfamilyband/imnothere24 for the quick beta!_

Breha put her finger gently under her daughter's chin and tipped it upward. Leia held completely still, her giant eyes looking up at Breha with excited anticipation. The queen drew the small gold tube of red pigment over Leia's lips.

"Be careful not to smudge it, okay, baby? You have to act like a big girl. That was our deal, remember?" Breha reminded. Five-year-old Leia nodded solemnly.

"I remember, Mommy. I could wear a big-girl dress and big-girl lipstick if I act like a big girl at the ball. I promise to," Leia replied.

"I know you will," Breha smiled, leaning down to brush noses with her little princess. "I have to go make sure Daddy has his clothes on right, so can you go wait with General Rieekan?" Breha requested. Leia giggled.

"Yes, Mommy," she replied, running to the antechamber, her frilly rose dress flowing adorably around her tiny body.

"General! Mommy let me wear big-girl clothes," Breha heard Leia say excitedly to Carlist before the door closed. She smiled warmly and went to her husband.

"I resent that you are putting ideas in our daughter's head that I am incapable of dressing myself," Bail teased, fixing his tie in the mirror.

"If I have to tell a little fib to get a few minutes alone with you before a ball, then so be it," Breha replied, leaning into him. "Now, I require one final kiss before I put my lipstick on," Breha requested. Bail smiled and leaned to oblige her.

"Just one?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her back for another.

"We have places to be," she scolded, stealing a kiss from him and pulling out of his arm. Bail gave her a reproachful look and turned back to the mirror. Breha leaned over her dressing table and swiped the gold tube of lipstick over her lips.

"I have always loved that shade," Bail complimented, coming to stand beside her. "It looks like that good wine from the Southern Isles," he continued, his hand trailing up the back of her dress. Breha shivered and straightened.

She loved this part of their relationship—the light, flirtatious teasing they threw back and forth when they wanted nothing more than to spend the entire evening connected at the mouth but were forced to go to meetings or parties. When they were finally able to fall into bed together at the end of the night, they were half-mad with anticipation and want.

"My lipstick is on, darling—no matter what you say, I am off limits until the end of the ball," Breha reminded him, pursing her lips.

"My Queen, I move we amend the rules," Bail said, adopting a very formal tone.

"Indeed, Senator? What amendments do you propose?"

"I propose that we send our adorable little girl down to charm all of those people, and then we just stay up here until morning," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her from behind, perching his chin on her shoulder and nuzzling his nose into the hollow behind her ear. "She's smart like her momma, and she's got Carlist to help her along. She'll make it."

"Senator, you know better than most that the best amendments never make it past committee," she said breathily, leaning her head to give him more space to nuzzle. The straps of her dress hung off the shoulder, the neckline meeting in a conservative V in the center of her chest. Bail took advantage of the wide expanse of skin and placed kisses along her neck.

"Ah, but I have connections higher up," he reminded her, his hands finding her hips in amongst the yards of pleated purple silk and rubbing slowly. Breha leaned away from his lips to fasten on the kyber crystal choker and shivered as he traced the edge of the necklace, his fingers stopping just short of the hem of the gown.

"Do you?"

"Mhm. If you believe the rumors, I've spent a night or two in bed the with queen," Bail bragged into her ear.

"I _am_ impressed. Word in the staff room is she's quite devoted to her husband. You must be _very_ good," Breha praised.

"I'll tell you what. I have to go to some useless function—just for the anniversary of my planet, you know—and afterwards, I'll meet you back here and show you what makes the Queen's toes curl."

She looked down the front of her dress in the mirror, past Bail's arms around her waist, past the little tatted rosettes falling from the pleats, past the row of fine lace at the bottom, to her bare toes peeking out at the base of the gown. Breha leaned back into his chest.

"Promise?"

"Promise. We should be on our way. Carlist has probably had enough time alone with our little girl." Bail removed his arms from around her waist and tucked her arm into his. "We've got a ball to attend. One more thing, my queen-perhaps some shoes?"

00

Their little girl made it three hours before Breha quietly slipped out to tuck her in bed. Leia was asleep before Breha and Leia's babysitter, Navii, could get her hair brushed out and her nightgown buttoned. The queen returned to the ball quickly and was on her husband's arm in a heartbeat.

"What did I miss, love?" she asked.

"Dessert and wine," Bail replied, holding up a plate of cake and a glass of burgundy wine.

"The good wine from the Southern Isles," she observed, swiping his glass and taking a sip.

"Only the best for my Queen," he promised, taking a bite of the cake and then offering a forkful to her. It was her favorite kind, he knew, the special recipe of the pastry chef that was only made for a few occasions. Her expression melted into pure bliss as she savored the cake.

"Oh, Bail, this cake is positively to _die_ for," Breha breathed, leaving a drop of frosting on her tinted lips. Bail couldn't resist leaning over and placing his lips over the dollop, sucking gently to remove it. He leaned back a fraction of an inch before kissing her again.

"Senator, you've broken the rules," Breha scolded, reaching for her handkerchief and wiping the maroon lipstick off his mouth.

"Am I going to be discharged from service, your majesty?" he asked.

"If you don't straighten up, I may have to form a committee and look into the matter," she warned playfully.

"Well, then, I'd better watch myself. I couldn't have you tied up in committee all night. I have much better plans," he whispered. Breha smiled.

"We've got a few more hands to shake, and then I'd like you to curl my toes," Breha whispered blithely. Bail tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and started steering her toward the next person they had to greet.

"Your wish is my command, my darling."

00

They'd both developed a strong sense of self-control during their long weeks of forced separation. Being in the same space together seemed to bring that out even more, as a sort of game—which one could keep their royal decorum longer? Was that an accidental brush of a hand, or a deliberate move to insight a reaction that had to be swallowed? Building anticipation was key, and they were both veritable experts.

By the time the guests were leaving and their duties as Queen and Viceroy had come to an end, they were both more than ready to lock the door behind themselves and forget the rest of the galaxy for a few hours.

Time alone together wasn't something of which Bail and Breha often had an abundance, and they learned early on in their marriage that that meant not rushing through anything, savoring every moment—kissing deeply, touching gently, moving slowly until they couldn't take it anymore.

They walked slowly up to their chambers together, knowing they had one more intrusion on their solitude once they arrived there. Balls required finery, and finery required assistance in dressing and undressing. A servant would be present to look after Bail's heavy robe and his crystal consort's pin, and the veritable army of women would help Breha out of her dress, store the crown jewels, and let down her hair.

"Until we meet again, my queen," Bail said dramatically, sweeping Breha into his arms and giving her a theatrical kiss. She giggled as he stood her up again.

"Try not to languish in my absence, love," she deadpanned keying open the door. The staff was waiting in the antechamber and Bail was forced to drop her hand as they parted ways.

He was waiting for her on the balcony when the women finally finished with her.

"The committee will see you now, Senator," Breha called coyly, walking toward him slowly, the ends of her chiffon robe fluttering in the night breeze. She always felt pretty in ball gowns and gemstones, but nothing made her feel quite as beautiful as the look in his eyes while he took her in. Bail pulled her into a warm, ardent kiss. He swept his hand through her long, unbound hair, soothing her scalp from tight braids and heavy headpieces.

"The whole committee?" he asked. "Who's on this committee? I'm not sure that I want to divulge my toe-curling secrets," he teased.

"Just me," she promised, running her hands over his chest. He leaned forward and kissed her once more.

"Well then, your majesty, I move the session begin."

 _AN: Like it? Leave me a review!_


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